Murky Waters

I know there will come a day in which my eyes will meet the world the same way yours did:

lost between abstracts and fragments of memory.

Under nebulous traces of the past,

my sight will fog and I’ll forget my name,

and perhaps the time and a memory or two.

I think, though, that under the waves of the remembrances

I will finally know everything for certain: from the words that you repeated until your last breath,

to the uproar that clawed itself around the beating of your fleeting heartbeat.

I won’t be able to understand, however,

why you chose to lose yourself under these waters and I won’t be able to find, in the murky waters of our yearnings,

the ocean under which you flooded yourself.

I know there will come a day in which my eyes will meet the world the same way yours did

and I wonder if underneath those waters, entrapped in yourself, when everything was certain,

you managed to see the way I looked at you.